(Babies! In order to make up for full attendance, I added some words in yesterday's chapter. Please take a moment to read it.)
Old Gou nodded repeatedly, stuffed the tally token into his bosom, and slipped out through the side gate of the garrison headquarters as if his feet were greased.
On East Market Street in the northern town, vendors' cries rose and fell in waves.
Old Gou mingled among the crowd. He didn't glance around or quicken his pace.
He'd been in this line of work for a few years and knew well that this was exactly the time to keep his composure.
When he passed a straw bundle stuck with candied hawthorn sticks, he stopped and pretended to pick one out.
As he turned his head, he darted a quick glance from the corner of his eye toward the crowd behind him.
A few women buying vegetables, two porters carrying loads on shoulder poles, and a blind fortune-teller.
No spies, no tail.
Old Gou put down the hawthorn stick and walked on.
When he passed the blacksmith's shop, he called out to Old Man Zhang, who was busy hammering inside.
"Old Zhang, how much for that hoe?"
Without lifting his head, Old Zhang swung his hammer at the red-hot iron billet, sparks flying everywhere.
"Thirty coppers apiece, no haggling!"
Old Gou muttered that it was too expensive and shook his head as he moved on.
At the mutton soup stall, he sidled up to the vendor and struck up a conversation.
"Has the grain price in the city gone up again these past few days?"
The vendor was stirring the tripe in the pot with a long ladle, white steam rising straight up.
"It changes every single day. Life's getting impossible. At this rate, everyone's going to end up eating the northwest wind."
Old Gou sighed and chimed in with a few words of agreement.
He did all this just to leave a trail of passage.
Even if someone at the garrison headquarters grilled him, he'd have enough witnesses to prove he'd only been loitering and shopping on the street.
He was very pleased with his meticulous methods and even silently praised himself as "sharp-witted."
After turning two street corners, he plunged into a secluded bluestone alley.
Several baskets of rotten vegetable leaves were piled in the alley, giving off a sour, stinking odor.
Deep in the alley hung a faded cloth banner that had been washed white.
It read: "Wu's Tea Shop."
Old Gou stopped at the door.
He checked both ends of the alley. Aside from a stray cat scrambling up the wall, there wasn't even a ghost in sight.
After confirming it was safe, he reached out, lifted the bamboo curtain, and slipped inside.
The tea shop was dimly lit, thick with the musty smell of aged tea leaves.
Only two tables of customers sat in the main hall, heads bowed as they drank their tea in silence and chatted idly about gossip.
Old Gou walked straight to the counter.
"Boss, give me a pot of cheap tea leaves!"
He pulled two copper coins from his sleeve and laid them side by side on the greasy, grimy counter.
The coin on the right had its face side down.
Wu Zhanggui behind the counter glanced at the coins and swiftly pulled a rag out of his sleeve, wiping the counter in a few perfunctory motions.
"Customer, the front is too noisy. There's a private seat in the back courtyard."
Wu Zhanggui led the way, guiding Old Gou through a small door into a side room in the rear courtyard.
As soon as the door closed.
Old Gou pulled a neatly folded square of yellow paper from his sleeve.
"A dead message from the garrison headquarters."
Lowering his voice, Old Gou spoke slowly.
"The fire-pot canisters brought back from White Wolf Valley have all been taken out of the pass by the Breakthrough Camp. There isn't even a scrap left in the arsenal now. That Su from Fallen Valley has been slamming the table at the Ordnance Bureau over saltpeter these past few days."
Wu Zhanggui took the paper, quickly unfolded it, and scanned it.
He walked briskly to the table and held the note directly to the flickering candle flame.
The flame licked at the yellow paper, which soon burned into a pile of ash.
The ash swirled down and settled on the table.
Wu Zhanggui turned around, clasped his hands, and gave Old Gou a heavy bow.
"The Great Khan's army is about to march south. This intelligence of yours is priceless!"
His voice was filled with fierce fervor.
"The day the city falls, not a single soul in the deputy general's mansion will be spared. You alone, Old Gou, shall have the highest merit!"
Wu Zhanggui patted Old Gou on the shoulder, the force of it heavy.
"A reward of one hundred taels of gold, and you shall be enfeoffed as a thousand-household marquis!"
Old Gou was so excited he rubbed his hands together repeatedly and bowed over and over.
"Thank you, boss, for your patronage! Thank the Great Khan for his grace!"
He walked to the table, poured himself a cup of cold tea, and tossed it back in one gulp.
Then he grabbed the battered straw hat from the table and plopped it on his head.
"I need to get back quickly. If I'm gone too long, they'll get suspicious."
Pushing open the paint-peeling wooden door to the back courtyard, Old Gou hurried off along another weed-choked, hidden lane.
His feet felt light and hurried, his entire being swept up in an excitement he could barely contain.
One hundred taels of gold! A thousand-household marquis!
His mind was already working out how to spend the money.
First, buy a three-courtyard mansion in the capital, then wed four or five sweet little concubines.
He'd travel in a sedan chair carried by eight bearers. Whoever dared get in his way, he'd have his servants break their legs!
All the pent-up frustration he'd suffered in that shabby garrison headquarters—he'd finally made it through.
Xu Qinghuan was nothing.
Once the Great Khan's iron cavalry trampled through the northern pass, all those lofty aristocrats, those high and mighty people, would kneel on the ground and beg Old Gou to spare them a crumb!
Thinking of this, Old Gou couldn't help but chuckle, almost tripping over a protruding stone on the ground.
He steadied himself quickly, pressed down on his battered straw hat, and quickened his pace, melting into the flow of people outside the alley.
Half an hour later.
Wu Zhanggui walked to the front door and pulled the two heavy wooden panels shut with a thud.
A wooden sign reading "Closed for the Day" hung outside the door slit.
Wu Zhanggui turned and unhurriedly walked back to the side room in the rear courtyard.
He snickered, rubbing his sore cheeks from the strain of holding back laughter.
Then he walked to the innermost part of the room, lifted the partition curtain of green fabric.
There was Li Sheng, leaning back in a tai-shi armchair, slowly sipping tea and skimming the tea foam with his breath.
